Wild About A Texan

Olivia had that same fierce way about her, as if she were fighting for survival. Had she been badly injured in some way? He was almost sure of it. Everything in him ached to gather her close, to calm her and hold her till she healed.

A crazy notion, he supposed. After all, she was the psychologist. He was just a lucky stiff who had more money than sense and who, to keep from being called a goof-off, built and ran a fancy golf club for his buddies in the millionaires’ club.

Still, he wasn’t going to let her get away. She might not know it, but she needed him.

He strode toward her.

Play it cool, Crow. Play it cool, he told himself. Don’t scare her off.

She looked like a startled doe when he took the wine glass from her fingers and handed it to his grandfather.

“Let’s dance,” he said, drawing her into his arms.

“There’s no music,” she said, pushing against his chest. “The band is still setting up.”

“I’ll hum until they start.” He pulled her back to him. “What do you want? Waltz? Fox-trot? Tango? I do a mean tango.”

Laughing, she stepped out of his arms. “Jackson, you’re still a piece of work. Behave.”

He winked. “I’d rather misbehave with you.”

“Jackson!” she whispered. “Your grandfather.” She gestured with her eyes, indicating someone was behind her.

“Grandpa Pete’s gone.”

She glanced around. “Where did he go? We were talking.”

He shrugged. “No telling. But Pete’s sharp. He knows when three’s a crowd. If you won’t dance with me, would you like a drink? I see that the bar is open.”

“Just the wine I didn’t get to finish.”

“That’s easy.” He signaled a waiter with a tray of champagne glasses and plucked two from the load he carried. He handed one glass to Olivia.

“Thanks,” she said, ducking her head to study the bubbles rather than look at him.

He touched a bit of dark hair at her shoulder, letting the shiny strand curl around his finger. He couldn’t help touching her. “You’ve cut your hair.”

She nodded. “Just a little.”

“Have you lost weight?”

“Just a little.”

He lifted her chin and ran his thumb over the sexy dimple there. “Why did you run away from me?”

“I didn’t run away.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I didn’t run away. I left.”

“Why in such a blamed hurry?”

“I explained that in my note. I had to catch my flight home.”

“But you didn’t stay home. You disappeared off the face of the earth. I know because I looked everywhere for you. Your roommate Kim didn’t know where you were. Not even Irish, your best friend, knew where you were. I thought Kyle might strangle me when I interrupted his and Irish’s honeymoon trying to find you.”

“I told you that I went to visit a friend in Colorado. I had a sudden opportunity for a job, so I went.”

“And left no forwarding address?”

She shrugged, then, looking as if she would like to bolt any minute, she chugalugged her champagne.

Back off, Crow, he warned himself. Instead of pressing her, he smiled and held out his untouched glass. “Want another?”

She shook her head.

“Irish didn’t tell me you were coming to the wedding. Is this your first time in Texas?”

“I’ve been in Texas once or twice, and I didn’t know about the wedding. I was just passing through Dallas and decided to call Irish and Kyle, and you know Irish. The next thing I knew I was their house-guest and getting dressed for the ceremony.”

“Passing through?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

She nodded.

There was a long silence while he waited for her to expand on her comment. Finally he asked, “Going where?”

“To Austin.”

“Austin?” He waited again for her to elaborate.

“Yes,” was all she said.

Getting information out of her was harder than trying to put socks on a rooster.

“Jackson, my man,” a deep voice said as a big hand clamped his shoulder. “Might have known you would try to monopolize this lovely lady. Olivia, it’s good to see you again. I’m Mitch Harris. We met at Irish and Kyle’s wedding. I understand that you’re going to be working with Dr. Jurney at the University of Texas. That’s great, really great. Looks like we’ll be neighbors. May I be the first to welcome you to our capital?”

Rankled that Mitch seemed to know more about Olivia’s plans than he did, Jackson scowled and said, “Get lost, Mitch. This is a private conversation.”

Mitch only grinned and shook him playfully by the nape. “Now, Jackson, is that any way to talk to your governor?”

“You’re not my governor. Hell, I didn’t even vote.”

And, blast it, Olivia’s eyes widened as if she were impressed with the big lug who was standing there looking as smug as a packed-pew preacher.

“Of course I remember you, but I didn’t realize that you were the governor,” she said, extending her hand to Mitch.

“I wasn’t when we met. Hadn’t even decided to run then. I was just inaugurated this past January.”

“Congratulations, Governor.”

Mitch kept holding Olivia’s hand a lot longer than necessary, which burned Jackson good. “The only reason Mitch got elected,” Jackson said, “was that he used to play a little pro football. People didn’t know he got his brains scrambled from all the hits on the field.”

“Jackson!” she exclaimed, clearly shocked by his comment.

Mitch only chuckled. “Actually, I think it was mostly because my opponent got caught in a scandal a week before the election. Nobody was more surprised that I was, but I won, fair and square.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re being modest,” she said.

“No, he’s not,” Jackson said. “Mitch Harris hasn’t got a modest bone in his body. And if you don’t get lost, good buddy, I’m going to revoke your golf privileges at Crow’s Nest.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Mitch asked.

Jackson shot at him with his index finger. “You got it in one, Gov.”

Mitch laughed. “Then I guess I’ll be moving along. I’ll talk to you about that other matter later, Jackson. Olivia, it was good to see you again.” He slipped a card from a case in his breast pocket and handed it to her. “Give me a call when you’re settled, and I’ll show you around, take you to dinner. Austin has some of the greatest restaurants in the state.”

If Mitch hadn’t walked away right then, Jackson would have decked him. Instead, he jerked the card from her hand, tore it in little pieces and dropped them in a nearby flowerpot.

“Jackson! Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t be dense! Why did you tear up Mitch’s card?”

“’Cause I don’t want you calling him. Stay away from the man. He’s dangerous. Let’s dance.”

She didn’t budge. “Dangerous?”

“Yes. He dyes his hair, lies about his golf handicap and wears boxer shorts with little smiley faces all over them.”

She tried to keep her lips pressed together, but she finally lost the battle with a laugh. “Jackson, aren’t you ever serious?”

“More than you know, darlin’.” He pulled her close and breathed in the sweet smell of her. “I’m real serious right now.”

“Olivia!” came a feminine squeal from a few feet away.

Olivia pushed away from him, and her face lit up. “Kim!” She held out her arms and they hugged like long lost sisters. “It’s been so long. You look great!”

“And so do you. Why didn’t you write? We were worried about you.”

Olivia shrugged. “Sorry, but you know me. I hate writing letters. It’s so wonderful to see you again. Irish tells me that you’ve had an exciting offer with the state department. Let’s go powder our noses and catch up on all the news.”

And slick as a whistle, she was gone. Jackson could hardly follow her into the ladies’ room—though he considered it. His good manners finally got the upper hand, and he turned away, looking for Mitch. He and his old friend had a little business to discuss.

He hadn’t even considered Mitch’s outrageous request earlier, knowing that, sure as shootin’, he would end up humiliated. He was painfully aware of his limitations. Now things had changed. Jackson told himself that he was letting himself in for a lot of grief, but in spite of the risks, he was going to take Mitch up on his offer. Somehow he would manage to keep from looking like too much of an idiot. After all, he’d been fooling folks for years, and Olivia was worth the gamble.

Olivia and Kim talked nonstop for twenty minutes or more. Finally Kim said, “I hate to leave you, but I promised my folks that I would be right back. Irish invited me over for breakfast tomorrow. We’ll spend the morning gabbing.” Kim hugged her. “Gosh, I’ve missed you two.” With a wiggle of her fingers, her friend left.

Olivia lingered, repairing her makeup and stalling her return to the reception. She’d loved catching up on all the news with Kim. She’d missed her vivacious young friend. Although Kim was more than a decade younger than Olivia, the two of them, along with Irish, had been housemates in Washington and had become very close. Kim had been in college and working part-time for Congresswoman Ellen Crow O’Hara, Jackson and Matt’s older sister and Kim’s aunt by marriage. Olivia had been working on her doctorate in psychology and trying to get her life back on track after her divorce. Irish, who had inherited the old house they lived in, was working as a cosmetic consultant and trying to get her life back on track after a terrible mugging in New York that had ruined her modeling career.

The bonds that Olivia forged with the two women had saved her sanity. They had become the sisters she’d never had, the closest thing to a family that she had left. Her mother had died when she was ten. Her older brother had left home the day he turned eighteen, and God only knew where he was. Her father, a prominent cardiologist in Palm Springs, had disinherited her when she divorced Thomas, not that severing ties with her father was any great loss. He was a tyrant whose abuse had driven her mother to suicide, her brother to the streets and her into a terrible marriage to a man who could have been her father’s clone.

“Olivia?”

She glanced up to see Irish’s beautiful face smiling in the mirror. “Irish, the wedding was lovely. Eve looks so happy.”

“She is happy. But you look awfully sad.”

Olivia shook her head and tucked her lipstick into her purse. “No, I was just reminiscing about the good times we had in Washington at your old house.”

“We did have some crazy times there, didn’t we? But come on, the bride and groom are about to cut the cake, and Jackson is wearing a hole in the floor outside. He sent me in after you.”

“Irish, I really don’t want to get involved with Jackson. I’m simply not ready for any kind of meaningful relationship with a man. I’ve been stung too many times.”

“Oh, don’t worry about Jackson. I don’t think meaningful relationship is in his vocabulary. In fact, someone like him might be good for you. You need to cut loose and have a little fun. Come on.”

Olivia had no choice but to rise and rejoin the party.

Despite her resolve to keep her distance from Jackson, he was at her side almost constantly, and she’d been enjoying herself. He was a wonderful dancer, and she told him so as he whirled her around the floor.

“Thanks,” he replied. “I majored in dancing and poker at college.”

She laughed. He was such a cutup. “Where did you go to school, and what did you really major in?”

“I have several alma mammies, and my major changed from semester to semester. Academics never interested me the way it did my brother and sister and cousins. I wouldn’t have even gone to college if it hadn’t been for Grandpa Pete putting the screws to me.”

“I recall Irish telling me something about a deal your grandfather made with each of you. He paid for your education, then gave you a million dollars when you graduated?”

“Yep. Then we had five years to double the million. If we did it, he sweetened the pot. My sister sank her million into an ingenious invention by her boyfriend, who’s now her husband. Matt started Crow Airline and struck it rich. Kyle made a killing as a plastic surgeon to the stars in California. My cousin Smith, Kyle’s younger brother, started a computer company when he was in college and made his fortune.”

“And you?” Olivia asked. “How did you double your money? I assume that you did.”

“Yep. My biggest talent has always been my luck, so I bought a million dollars worth of lottery tickets.”

She stopped dead still, astonished. He did a fast shuffle to keep from trampling her toes. “Lottery tickets? You’re joking.”

“Nope. If you think about it, I had great odds. Won eleven-million dollars.”

“You won?”

“Absolutely.”

She shook her head. “Jackson Crow, you’re crazy.”

He grinned down at her. “Absolutely.” He pulled her close and whirled her around the floor again. “I’m crazy about you, Olivia Emory.”

She stiffened. “Moore.”

“Sorry. Moore. I’m glad you’re rid of that bozo’s name.”

She’d told him the same story about her name change that she’d told his grandfather. Amazing how easily she’d learned to lie, especially when her life had come to depend on it. She had changed names two or three times since she’d last seen Jackson. Her ruse must have worked, for she hadn’t seen or heard from Thomas since he’d tracked her to Akron and crashed Irish’s wedding reception.

“Relax,” Jackson whispered in her ear, drawing her close.

“Pardon?”

“You suddenly went stiff as a post.”

“Sorry. I must be getting a bit tired.”

“Oh, hell, I’m the one that’s sorry. I’ve been dancing your feet off for an hour. Only way I figured I could hold you and stay decent in front of my mama and daddy. Let’s go sit down, and I’ll get you something from the buffet. Oh, shoot, Mama’s waving at us. You mind visiting with my folks some more?”

“Not at all. I like your parents. They’re very nice.”

“They’re curious is what they are.”

“About me? Why?”

“Let’s just say that they’re sizing you up as a future daughter-in-law.”

Her breath caught. “A what?”

He chuckled and kissed her nose. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. I’m a long way from being ready to make that trip down the aisle.”

Olivia was cordial with Mr. and Mrs. Crow and chatted amiably with them for a few minutes. She really did like his parents, but when Jackson left for the buffet table, she excused herself politely and stole away. Distance was what she needed. Distance from Jackson Crow. She had no plans to take up with him where they left off in Akron. If she hadn’t become so frightened when she’d spotted Thomas across the room, she wouldn’t have thrown herself at Jackson and dragged him from the reception.

She retreated to a courtyard outside the elegant inn, a spot lush with tropical plants and hanging baskets. She sat on a stone bench, hoping to make herself invisible behind the ficus tree growing beside the seat.

She felt foolish, a woman hiding like a child to avoid a confrontation, but she’d spent so many years fleeing and hiding, simply to survive, that the response was as conditioned as those of Pavlov’s dogs. Instinctively, whenever she felt threatened, she ran.

Jackson Crow posed no physical threat to her—at least she didn’t think so. Yet, she seemed to have a penchant for picking abusive men. She’d thought Rick, her college fiancé, was a kind, caring person until the first time he’d lost his temper. And her ex-husband Thomas—

She shuddered.

Olivia had sworn off any sort of significant relationship with men. She didn’t have the emotional stamina for it—at least not now. And maybe not ever.

Her brief fling with Jackson had been a mistake, just as she knew that rekindling their affair would be a mistake. She sensed that although Jackson played the clown on the surface, he was a deeply intense individual underneath. The first time their eyes met, she had responded with a visceral feeling that stunned her. The first time he’d kissed her, she’d gone up in flames. The first time they had made love, she’d been lost.

Those feelings were still there.

Jackson Crow was Trouble. She was glad that they would be living over two hundred miles apart.

Holding a heaping plate of food in each hand, Jackson scanned the room.

Mitch Harris strolled up. “Lose something?”

“Yeah.” Ignoring Mitch, his gaze scanned the clusters of people again. Where in the dickens had she gone now?

“You thought any more about accepting that appointment to the Railroad Commission?”

“I’ve had other things on my mind.”

Mitch chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed. Beautiful woman.”

Jackson glared at his friend. “Keep your mitts off her, Mitch. I mean it. This one is special. If you try to move in on her, I’ll break both your legs and all your writin’ fingers.”

“I got the message earlier, my friend. Jackson, I really wish you’d take that spot for Bledsoe’s unexpired term. Things are getting backed up over there. I need to make an appointment this week, and you’re my first choice. You’re sharp, and I don’t know of anybody any more fair-minded than you are.”

Jackson snorted. “You’re laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m serious. You know the oil business backward and forward, and I know you keep up with the other areas that the commission regulates. I think you’d be perfect for the job.”

“Actually, I have been thinking some about it. I’d have to move to Austin, wouldn’t I?”

“Be a devil of a commute if you didn’t. Come on, Jackson, it’s not permanent—just till the next general election. I know you like Austin, and remember, we’ve got some fine golf courses in the area.”

“None of them as good as Crow’s Nest—the first tee is only ten yards from my front door. Austin’s golf courses aren’t the big drawing card for me.”

“Ah,” Mitch said, grinning, “but we’re soon going to have a drawing card that no place else has. The lovely Olivia.”

Jackson answered with a slow grin of his own.

“Tell you what, if you’ll agree to take the appointment, I’ll show you which way Olivia went.”

“Buddy, you’re on.”

Three

Olivia drove down the tree-lined street on Austin’s west side, then turned into the driveway. She bumped over the cracked asphalt that had been heaved upward by live-oak roots and pulled to a stop in her space beside the garage apartment in the rear yard. She waved to Dr. Tessa Jurney, who was sitting on the side porch of the main house.

Grateful to be home and doubly grateful that it was Friday, she climbed from the oven of a car. Sweat trickled from her hairline, and her sleeveless shift stuck to her back from the car’s leather seat. She blotted her face and neck with a paper towel from the roll she’d learned to carry with her.

“Come have a glass of iced tea,” Tessa called. “You look as if you’re about to melt.”

“I melted a long time ago,” Olivia said as she walked toward the porch of the two-story house, an elegant white clapboard from the thirties. “Is it always this hot?”

“At this time of year? Always. People around here say that there are two seasons—summer and August. Thank goodness August is finally over. September is a bit better, especially toward the end, and October is glorious.” She poured a glass of tea from the pitcher and handed it to Olivia.

Olivia took a long swallow, then rolled the cold glass over her forehead. “The first thing I’m going to do when I get a pay check is to have my car’s air conditioner fixed. I never needed it in Colorado, so it wasn’t a problem. Even though the car’s getting old, it has never given me a moment’s trouble. I didn’t even know the air conditioner wasn’t working until I headed to Texas.”

“I’ll be happy to loan you money to—”

“No.” Olivia held up her hand. “Absolutely not. You and Ed have already done too much for me—helping me get this job and letting me live in your apartment for practically nothing. No loans, but thanks, anyhow.”

“At least drive Ed’s car for a while. He’ll be in Atlanta for ten more days, and it’s just sitting idle in the garage.”

With the temperatures still soaring into the nineties, it was murder to be stuck in a car without air-conditioning. But Olivia hated to be a mooch. She wasn’t accustomed to having to depend on the generosity of others or doing without conveniences—at least not until she left Thomas with nothing but the Lexus she still drove, her clothes and what few personal items she could hurriedly throw into the car. She couldn’t even count on her father—he’d disinherited her when she walked out on Thomas, even though she’d been frightened for her life. In the past few years, Olivia had learned to survive on a lot less than she was accustomed to—and been a thousand times more content.

For two years Dr. Tessa Jurney had been her major professor in graduate school at American University in Washington, D.C. Tessa and her family had moved to Texas shortly before Olivia had been forced to flee, but they had kept in touch with a card or a phone call now and then. Tessa and Irish were the only people who knew the whole story—or at least most of it—about her past. Olivia had always meant to finish her doctorate, but with Thomas after her…well, things had gone on hold for a while. Tessa had pulled the strings that had allowed her to complete her degree.

“How are your classes going?” Tessa asked.

“Wonderfully. I have some really bright students in the two undergrad classes I’m teaching, and I’m enjoying my seminar with Dr. Bullock immensely—even though we have lots of reading to do. I just came from three hours in the library.”

As Tessa refilled their glasses, a truck stopped in front of the house across the street. The name of a furniture store was scrolled across the side.

“Looks like our new neighbors may be moving in soon,” Tessa said.

“Um. Do you know who bought the house?”

“No. Jenny and her friends are hoping that it’s a family with a ‘really fine’ son in her age range.”

Jenny was the Jurneys’ thirteen-year-old. They also had a son, Bill, who was sixteen. Both were good kids. Part of Olivia’s deal for living in the apartment was to be close by for Jenny and Bill on evenings when the Jurneys went out or the occasional weekend when Tessa and Ed were out of town. Jenny and Bill were at that awkward age when they were too old for sitters and too young to be alone—especially for an entire weekend.

A luxury car pulled to a stop behind the truck and a long-legged blonde got out and hurried up the walk of the Spanish-style home.

“The owner, you think?” Olivia asked.

Tessa shook her head. “Looks like a decorator to me, and I’d venture that no expense has been spared. I priced a chair at that furniture store last year. It cost more than Jenny’s braces. The braces won.”

The two of them did some more speculating as the delivery men toted couches and tables and chairs up the front walk. In the two and a half weeks that Olivia had been living in Austin, the new-neighbor question had been an ongoing saga. The Sold sign went up the day after Olivia arrived, and there had been a parade of repairmen and plumbers and landscapers coming and going.

It was a beautiful home, Olivia had thought with a tiny twinge of envy as she’d watched the painters apply a coat of warm cream to the stucco. She loved the red tile roof and the sprawling hacienda style with the walled courtyard. A beautiful home indeed, but her little apartment suited her just fine—and she was thankful to have it. Although it was furnished with castoffs as Tessa had warned, the rooms were really quite charming, especially after Olivia had done some painting and spent a couple of weekends scouting garage sales and resale shops. She’d actually enjoyed going “junking” as Tessa called it—and gotten some darned good bargains.

She smiled at the notion of Michelle or Dani or any of her other chichi California pals buying used goods in someone’s garage or at a Goodwill shop. Olivia had come a long way from California, and she wouldn’t go back for anything. She much preferred the peacefulness of her life now—the friends she’d acquired since she left that life.